


Give Me a Reason to Stay

by vailann



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Fluff, Holidays, Love Confessions, M/M, Stozier, slight angst but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21892477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vailann/pseuds/vailann
Summary: Richie’s moving away after Christmas. Unless Stan can give him a reason to stay.
Relationships: Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Kudos: 75





	Give Me a Reason to Stay

**Author's Note:**

> Holiday fluff for all you stozier shippers.

Stan stepped over a small frozen creek, thinking how stupid he was for not bringing a coat due to the frigid air. The end of his jeans were getting wet from the damp ground as he made his way through the dying overgrowth of the Barrens to the loser’s underground refuge. It was the middle of winter, not exactly a nice time to hang out in a clubhouse without heat. Although, Stan wasn't exactly going there to hang out. He was trying to find Richie. He hadn't seen him in a couple of days which was highly unusual.

When he first got worried he went to Richie’s house to see if he was there, his mom answered and said he had spent the night at Bill’s house and was probably still there. When he went to Bill’s house Richie was not there. Bill told him Richie didn't even stay over that night. Stan came quickly to the Barrens, he had a hunch that he would find Richie there. He knew that he even spent the night there sometimes when he didn't want to be at home.

He opened the door to the clubhouse and climbed down. As he predicted he found Richie curled up in the hammock. Covered by what seemed like fifteen blankets. The ground beneath him covered in several empty packages of chips.

“Hey, Richie,” Stan called out to him. “I've been looking all over for you, I was worried.” He blushed over his own admission that he was scared for Richie’s well being in his unexplained absence. Hopefully he was asleep so he didn't hear it.

He was not. “Nice to see you Stanley,” he replied.

“You too, asshole.”

Stan went over to the hammock and got in it beside Richie. It was cramped but at least it was pleasantly warm, Richie was warm. His friend looked at him. He could tell something was wrong by two things. One, the somber expression on Richie’s face. Second, that he didn't seem his usual annoying self, something was off. Somehow Stan could tell he was still holding something in.

“Are you okay?” asked Stan.

Richie did nothing but lean into him and bury his face in Stan’s sky blue sweater. The action only made him more worried. Richie not talking was always a bad sign.

“Richie,” said Stan as he put his hand in his friend’s curly black hair, “did something happen?”

No answer.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing,” Richie mumbled against his shirt.

“Don't lie to me.”

Richie chose to ignore his request, simply staying silent and clinging onto him like ivy to a tree. If he wouldn't tell him what's wrong the he wouldn't be able to help him. He so desperately wanted to help him. 

“Talk to me… please?” 

Richie couldn't ignore such a plea from Stan when he said it in that certain tone. He moved back, which allowed Stan to see his face. He was smiling half-heartedly and something in his expression made Stan feel like he had butterflies in his stomach. 

“If you insist Staniel.” He reached for his hand, and Stan willingly intertwined their fingers together. Richie was holding on tight, like his life depended on it. Reassurance, Stan supposed. This must really be serious. He took a deep breath before admitting, “My parents are getting a divorce.”

“That’s horrible... I’m so sorry.” Stan didn't know what else to say. He was bad at comforting people or even talking to them without being totally awkward.

“My mom wants to move to a new town and have a fresh start or whatever. She wants me to come too,” Richie whispered, “I’m moving away. We’re leaving soon after Christmas.”

The news felt like a punch to his gut. He couldn't lose Richie, his best friend. He couldn't move away, not when they are, whatever they are. His rational mind knew he couldn't make Richie feel guilty for leaving. He didn't deserve that. Stan understands that he should let Richie go, no matter his own personal feelings. He had to accept it.

Stan decided the safest thing to say was, “Alright.”

Something like hurt flashed in Richie's face, only for a moment. Far too quick for Stan to notice.

“Alrighty,” Richie said disconcertedly.

Richie went back to his earlier position, burying his nose once again in Stan’s cozy sweater. Stan wrapped his arm firmly around Richie. He was always better at comforting with actions rather than words. They laid there for what could have been hours, and likely was. Not saying anything. The only things they could say to each other, they were too scared to admit. Stan hopelessly wanted to say something, but it wouldn't help. Richie would still leave him. _God, he was so pathetic_.

The next time they were alone was Christmas Eve. Stan came over to Richie’s house. They were sitting on his bed. Stan was trying his best to not think about how this could be the last time they were together. He stared at the empty cardboard boxes on the floor, waiting to be packed with Richie’s stuff. That certainly wasn't helping. 

They were talking about school and other things that people talk about that allow them to avoid talking about anything truly important. He wanted to say so much to Richie. Instead he left it unsaid, it was less complicated that way.

He stared out the red Christmas light covered window to the snow. His mind shifted to the memory of a few days ago when all the losers played in the snow together. Laughing, snowball fights, and hot chocolate. So different from this moment. They were different around each other. Richie was quieter for one thing. He felt like he was the one person who saw this thoughtful, calm version of Richie. He selfishly hoped he was the only person. And for him, Richie was the only person he allowed himself to be more outspoken around, who knew everything about him. Well except for one thing. His illogical part made him ask, “When are you leaving?”

Richie looked at him like he was contemplating something. “The day after New Years,” he said.

The day he first told him, that cold day in the Barrens, he said after Christmas. New Years felt too soon however. Any date Richie could have possibly said would be _too soon_.

“Actually,” said Richie slowly, “My parents decided since I’m almost seventeen, I am old enough to decide if I want to stay in Derry or go.”

Stan breathed out a sigh of immediate relief. Until he realized that Richie could still want to go. This tiny, shitty town, all the bad memories… of course he would want to leave. Wouldn't he?

“Do you…”

“I haven't decided.” Richie was staring at him so intensely it made him uncomfortable. “Unless there's some reason I should stay?” Richie prompted.

“I can't think of anything,” Stan answered. He was lying, he could think of a few reasons but they were all entirely selfish. Richie could go if he wanted to. He didn't want to influence his final decision.

Richie ended his focus on Stan, looking around his room, “Okay.”

Stan noticed how Richie sounded disappointed. Did he do something wrong? Should he have said something? What did Richie want him to say? _Shit, why did he always say the wrong thing._

“I mean all you guys are here. I would miss you, I would miss all of you,” Richie confessed, still avoiding looking at Stan. “I would hope you guys would miss me too. I would have to make new friends there, and no one wants to be friends with an annoying trashmouth like me,” he chuckled at his own self-deprecation, bringing his knees up to his chest and dropping his head down on top. Then finally he looked at Stan for confirmation, “Right?”

Something in Richie’s broken expression compelled him to answer. He took a leap of faith and finally said what he wanted to. “You are right,” Stan smiled at him, “I would miss you.” 

Richie smiled back. The mood changed to one of warmth. In the dead of winter. Richie's room was slightly cold, even with the red fleece blanket they were sharing. The way he looked at him, however, had Stan believing it was the middle of summer. That his gaze could melt him into a puddle. Richie turned toward him and leaned in. Stan closed the small space and their lips met. It felt like he had hoped, intense but soft. Like fireworks going off and many other cliche things that he never cared to find out about with anyone but Richie. Now he was at last. Richie's hand was on his jaw and his hand was in Richie’s hair. He found himself wanting to be close to him everywhere. He put his other hand up Richie’s shirt, desperate to feel his skin. They fell back onto the comfortable bed, Richie on top. 

Stan pulled away for a moment. Long enough to mutter breathlessly, “I want you to stay.”

“I’ll stay, for you,” he sounded so sure, but what was Richie if not weirdly confident. 

Richie captured his lips once more, using his tongue to open Stan’s mouth and deepen their kiss. He welcomed it gratefully. Richie was going to stay. He was going to stay, for him. He loved Richie so fucking much that he couldn’t describe it with words. He was going to try his best to not make Richie regret his decision, he was going to make it worthwhile. Always be there when he needs him. They pulled apart, faces still an inch from each other. Stan could feel Richie’s warm breath on his cheek, inhaling each other's breath. This felt so intimate.

“I love you,” the words tumbled out of Stan’s mouth softly. He couldn't help saying those three words now, not when they were finally _so_ close.

“I love you too, Stan the Man,” despite the nickname, it was the most serious thing Richie had ever said in his whole life. He meant it wholeheartedly. He definitely wasn't a touchy feely, ‘let's talk about our feelings kind of person.’ This was the only emotion he was ever sure about. He felt love for Stanley every time he saw his eyes light up when he was talking about his interests, whenever they talked late at night, and passed flirty notes at school as if they were in competition to make the other blush.

“Wanna stay the night?”

“Always.”

Richie got up and locked the door. He was planning to cuddle Stanley to death and he didn’t care for his mom to walk in. Stan looked at him curiously.

“Geez, we're not going to do it now. Save it for the third date, baby.”

Stan looked at him with amusement, grabbing Richie's arms and pulling him back on the bed.

“Beep Beep, Richie.”

“Come on we both know you want a piece of this,” said Richie gesturing to himself.

“Maybe some other time,” said Stan half-joking, gently taking Richie’s hand, “Why don’t we go to sleep?” 

“Fine with me.”

They cuddled in warmth, tightly holding on to each other. Perhaps more content that they had ever been in their lives. Richie had no problem staying in Derry. Especially if moving meant leaving behind his best friend. Who after the events of today, was more that he thought they would ever be. That thought thrilled him to no end. 

He woke up to Stanley’s voice, “Merry Christmas.”

He gave him a kiss on the cheek, “you don’t celebrate Christmas, babe.”

Stan blushed as he shrugged. He gave Richie a lingering kiss on the mouth. He pulled back, a dreamy look on his face, then a few seconds later, nervous. “Richie, what are we?”

“Boyfriends… if you want to be,” Richie replied honestly.

“Yes, so much.”

They smiled at each other. Then leaned in for another lingering kiss, longer than the one before. Richie hoped that this is how he could wake up every day, with the person he loved.


End file.
